Stages of Grief
by RainFlame
Summary: After Tomoe's death, Kotetsu must learn how to move on. One-shot. Rated for character death, just to be safe.


****Welcome! This is based off the five stages of grief, though I only included four XD I'm depressed now -.-

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Denial<strong>

It was a nightmare. It had to be. There was no way this could be real.

Because if it was real, he wouldn't hear her laughter from the kitchen, her high heels clicking in the entryway, her singing in the bedroom.

He could feel her, dancing on the peripherals of his senses. If he turned around, she would be rocking in the chair by the window, and at night, if he closed his eyes tightly enough and quieted his sobs, he could hear her breathing by his side and feel her heat next to his cold body.

He should be at the hospital by her side. That's where he spent all of his time when he wasn't at work. He had to constantly tell himself she wasn't there. He still didn't believe it.

There were arrangements to be made, a funeral to plan, an obituary to write. But he could do none of it. He could only stare at the bedroom door, expecting her to walk out at any moment, beautiful in her nightgown and messy hair. She'd come any minute, telling him to come to bed, it was too late to be up. Or maybe the phone would ring. She would tell him that she and her girlfriends would be out later than expected, that he shouldn't wait up.

He shouldn't be staring at the pen and paper in his hands, summing up her life in three paragraphs or less.

He inhaled air, but he felt like he was drowning. The prognosis had been good. She should have been home by now, recovering by his side. He would have made her fried rice, washed the clothes, cleaned house. She would laugh at how he ruined the laundry and left streaks on the windows and teased him for his cooking. That's how it should happen.

So why was he here alone?

"Daddy?"

He looked down at his little girl, his pride and joy. The smile he forced to his face felt brittle and wrong. "What is it, sweetie?" he asked, scooping her into his arms.

"Why are we here?" she asked. "Shouldn't I be at Grandma's? Shouldn't you be at the hospital? We can't leave Mommy alone. It's scary there."

His heart shattered. What could he say? Could he tell her what he himself didn't believe and expect her to understand?

He tried to speak, to tell her what had happened, but he couldn't. All that came out were sobs.

Kaede clung to his neck tightly and patted his back like she had seen her parents do. "What's wrong, Daddy? Are you okay? Is Mommy okay?"

He sobbed harder. He was even more desperate for answers than she was, and he couldn't find any. There was no way she could be gone. How could she be gone when she was here this morning?

"Daddy?" Kaede couldn't understand his pain, so she did all she could do. She cried with him.

The next night, Kaede was at her grandmother's house. It seemed too hard on her to watch her daddy cry.

Maybe this wasn't a nightmare after all.

Only life could cause so much agony.

**Anger**

It was a beautiful funeral. She would have been proud of it, pleased to know the impact she had had on so many people.

But he wasn't pleased. Far from it.

"Why did this happen?" he screamed as loudly as he could, planting a fist into his desk. "Why?"

No one answered him but a startled dog somewhere outside. His hand started to throb, blood beading on the torn flesh around several large splinters.

The numbness of the days before was starting to wear off, leaving him nothing but raw pain in its wake. It was a deep wound, one he wasn't sure he could ever heal from.

She had been so beautiful, so full of life. Why did she have to go like that? Gasping for air like a fish out of water as her organs slowly shut down, and all alone . . . it wasn't fair! She deserved better than that! Why hadn't the doctors been able to save her? That was their job, wasn't it? To stop death in its tracks, to restore health and life. This wasn't how their life was supposed to turn out!

He was supposed to be by her side . . .

She had wanted three children and a house in the countryside. He was going to retire in a few years and give her her dream. That was all she had ever wanted. It was all _he_ wanted. Why couldn't they have that? Was that too much to ask?

He hit the desk again, pleased that the torn flesh detracted from his torn heart.

Maybe, if he did enough damage, he could stop thinking altogether.

**Depression**

His life was empty, really.

It didn't seem like anything could hold his attention for more than a moment, save for a picture of Tomoe, or cradling her nightgown, or rocking in her chair, staring out her window. He could sit at her piano for hours, stroking the keys with calloused hands and staring at his reflection in its glossy surface until the sun went down.

He couldn't even give his little girl the attention she deserved.

She came back to stay with him for a while, and he tried so hard to focus on the words she said. He tried to be a good father and help her with her coloring and attend her tea parties and make her meals. But something in her mannerism or voice would remind him of Tomoe, and he couldn't bear to think anymore. He couldn't stand being around his little girl, his angel, his reason for being alive.

Finally, he sent her back to live with his mother. He couldn't stand the constant pain in her eyes, as if everything he did was a disappointment. As if _he_ was a disappointment.

But he was a disappointment. He couldn't even take care of himself.

It had been over a month since her passing and he still couldn't bear to go back to work. Eating was a chore he could barely manage at times, and his body was remarkably thin. He would exercise until he could barely move, hoping that abusing his body would clear the fog in his mind, to get his thoughts out of the past where they usually dwelled and onto the present. He couldn't be a Hero like this. He couldn't fulfill Tomoe's last wish if he couldn't think.

Antonio would visit sometimes.

"You look awful, Kotetsu," he would remark, holding out a bag of food that made Kotetsu's stomach roll in revulsion. "And this place looks awful."

The house wasn't pristine in the way Tomoe usually kept it. Since her hospitalization, the whole place had gone to ruin from Kotetsu's neglect. Empty cups and cans littered the floor, dropped when Kotetsu didn't want to make the long trek from the sofa to the trash. It was much the same story on the kitchen counters, and any flat surface available. Dust collected everywhere, and various shirts and ties were strewn across the room, dropped from wherever he happened to be while changing.

The only areas that remained untouched were the space around the piano and a seven foot radius around her chair.

Other friends came to visit sometimes, all bringing him food and their wishes for his health and wellness. But nothing they said or did could fill the emptiness.

Nothing but time.

**Acceptance**

Eventually, it stopped hurting so much.

It started small, like he was able to eat without feeling guilty that Tomoe didn't anymore. He could walk by her chair without pause, like before. He could sleep through the night without those horrid dreams. He could talk to Kaede with a genuine smile on his face.

Sure, sometimes things would trigger a vivid memory, and he would physically ache for her all over again. But the pain didn't last as long anymore. Sometimes he was even able to find more pleasure in the memories than pain.

Kaede stayed with his mother, leaving him alone in a house full of memories. But he could be happy with those memories, couldn't he? They were a sign of the blessings he had had in his life. He was lucky to have had Tomoe, lucky that she had chosen him. No one else had had the privilege to know her as he did, and, recent events aside, they had had a wonderful life together. How could he ask for more than those blissful years of marriage to his best friend?

So he made a decision. He would be thankful for what he had. And he would find the good in every day, and in every situation. Because that's what Tomoe would have wanted for him: she would want him to be happy.

So he would be happy.

He went back to work and life continued forward. His attitude toward his work had changed, though. He wasn't in it for the points anymore. He was in it for the people.

"What are you smiling about?" Barnaby would ask him.

He always smiled more and said, "What's not to smile about?"

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><p>Now I'm depressed. I need some Lucky Charms . . .<p>

This was just something that's been floating around my files for a couple of months. I've tweaked off and on and am finally fairly satisfied with it, so hope you like XD

Please review, if you would, and have a great day! :)

God Bless,

-RainFlame


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